The Totems of Abydos (56 page)

“Then what of the Pon we saw when we entered?” asked Brenner.

“I do not know,” said Rodriguez.

“His injuries were self-inflicted?”

“It seems so,” said Rodriguez.

“But why would he do such a thing to himself?” asked Brenner.

“Perhaps he witnessed the beatific vision,” said Rodriguez.

“I do not understand,” said Brenner.

“And did not care for it,” added Rodriguez.

“I do not understand,” said Brenner.

“It is not important,” said Rodriguez.

“Rodriguez,” protested Brenner.

“Many is the saint,” said Rodriguez, “who, granted a glimpse of his god, would cry out with horror.”

Brenner was silent.

“That is the “father,”” said Rodriguez, looking up at the great, painted head on the post. “And how many, in any culture, can look on the “father,” if they understand it, and see it as it truly is, unflinchingly?”

“But the others look upon it,” said Brenner.

“Not comprehendingly,” said Rodriguez. “The rarest gift is to look upon such things, and understand them, in all their terror, their mercilessness, their beauty, their reality, to look upon the world, the cosmos, the father, so to speak, and understand it, and then, knowingly, with a hearty will, rejoicing, even with a great laugh, to accept it, to affirm it, to rejoice in it, to celebrate it, to meet it, to make of it a game and a festival.”

“You are speaking of more than a totem,” said Brenner.

“We all have our totems,” said Rodriguez.

“This thing, for you, is only a symbol!” said Brenner.

“But one which is quite exact,” said Rodriguez.

“Let us leave, quickly!” said Brenner.

“You think that I am mad?”

“It is hard to understand you,” said Brenner.

“It was not my intention to frighten you.”

“We should go now,” said Brenner. “We have solved the mystery of the Pons.”

“That is absurd,” said Rodriguez. “We have solved but one mystery, and that the least of all, the mere nature of the totem beast.”

“What more is there to learn?” asked Brenner.

“Much,” said Rodriguez.

“What?” said Brenner.

“This afternoon,” said Rodriguez, “the beast brought his kill to the gate of the Pons, and left it there. I saw it coming across the clearing, roused by the cries of Pons. The Pons, when the beast had left, rushed out, rejoicing, striking the carcass with sticks.”

“I do not understand why the beast would have killed the other animal, or brought it here.”

“It is quite clear from the point of view of the Pons,” said Rodriguez.

Brenner looked at him, perplexed.

“Surely you see?”

“No,” said Brenner.

“It is in accord with the
pact
, the
pact
, between the totem and the totem group.”

“That is madness,” said Brenner.

“You saw the carcass. It is that of the animal which slew Archimedes.”

“It is some sort of coincidence,” said Brenner.

“The beast followed you, did it not, into the forest?”

“I encountered it in the forest,” said Brenner.

“You carried Archimedes back to the village,” said Rodriguez. “Your shirt is still filthy with his blood. The scent of Pon would have been on you.”

“I was threatened by hideous creatures in the forest,” said Brenner, numbly. “They left, detecting the presence of the huge beast. I ran. The beast followed.”

“It protected you,” said Rodriguez, fiercely.

“No!” said Brenner. “It threatened me. It would confront me. I would run another way. Then I found the trail of stones. I followed it back to the village.”

“Followed by the beast,” said Rodriguez.

“Apparently,” said Brenner.

“It guided you to the stones,” said Rodriguez.

“No!” said Brenner.

“It was your guide, and your guardian angel,” said Rodriguez.

“Madness,” said Brenner.

“On you was the scent of Pon,” said Rodriguez.

“It is a coincidence,” said Brenner.

“Here,” said Rodriguez, thoughtfully, “it is as though the pact was not mere totemistic mythology. It is rather as though it were real.”

“Do not speak madness,” said Brenner.

“That is one of the true mysteries here,” said Rodriguez, “the pact.”

“Have you see such a beast before?” asked Brenner, looking up at the head on the post.

“Of course,” said Rodriguez.

“It was the tracks of such a beast we found within the village, was it not?” said Brenner.

“That seems certain now,” said Rodriguez.

“But you seemed surprised,” said Brenner.

“Certainly,” said Rodriguez, smiling.

“‘Certainly’?”

“Certainly,” repeated Rodriguez.

“Presumably, too, it was the claws of the beast which had torn open the boards, and furrowed the posts, at the other platform, that by the cliffs,” said Brenner.

“Undoubtedly,” said Rodriguez.

“But you seemed to dismiss that possibility at the time,” said Brenner.

“For a very good reason,” said Rodriguez.

“Why?” asked Brenner.

“One mystery we may have solved here,” said Rodriguez, “is how the Pons have survived in the forest.”

Brenner regarded him.

“Such creatures as Pons can exist only in gardens of flowers,” said Rodriguez, “and then they had best not look into the grass, or between the stems of the plants, lest they see the jungle there. They live in a world of sunlit, benevolent trivialities, without risk, without challenge, without adventure, sunning themselves like turtles until they die. Such creatures are weak, worthless, soft. They cannot live in a real world unless they are guarded by lions. It is the lions which make their little flower worlds possible.”

“And the beast is their lion?” said Brenner.

“It makes such things as Pons possible,” said Rodriguez.

“But there have been Pons for thousands of years,” said Brenner.

“That is one of the mysteries,” said Rodriguez.

“There have been “lions,” too, for thousands of years,” said Brenner.

“Or things like them,” mused Rodriguez.

“Lions,” said Brenner.

“No,” said Rodriguez. “That is not possible.”

“It frightens me,” said Brenner, “that such a thing might once have walked in the village, when the gate had been left open.”

“It may have been left open by intent,” said Rodriguez.

“Doubtless as a gesture of hospitality,” said Brenner, bitterly.

“Possibly,” said Rodriguez. “But surely you do not think the palisade would be sufficient to keep out that beast, if it wanted in?”

Brenner shuddered.

“Consider its size,” said Rodriguez. “It could push through the palings. Consider its agility. It could leap over the fence. Consider its jaws, and the likely might of their grip. It could seize and uproot such palings, such wretched sticks.”

“Quite possibly,” said Brenner, uneasily.

“Consider, too, its paws, their unusual nature,” said Rodriguez.

“I did not notice them,” said Brenner.

“I did,” said Rodriguez, “this afternoon, and, again, tonight, in the light of the torches. Too, I have seen such things before. They are not the common sort of paw you would expect on a predator. You might have noted the digits, their length, their jointing, the positioning of them.”

“What are you saying?” asked Brenner.

“That the paws can grip, not just strike, and hold and tear,” said Rodriguez.

“They are prehensile?” asked Brenner.

“With such paws, said Rodriguez, “it could, if it thought in such a manner, push apart palings, snapping them, it could pull them from the ground, it could even reach between them to slide back the bars.”

“Do you remember, in the forest, when we first left Company Station, months ago, how the Pons were at first uneasy, even frightened, and then, a little later, proceeded with confidence?”

“Of course,” said Rodriguez.

“The beast?” said Brenner.

“Undoubtedly,” said Rodriguez. “It was then with them, their secret companion, the angel, secret, dark, and terrible, which would accompany them in the forests.”

“The forest was then so quiet,” said Brenner.

“It knew more than we,” said Rodriguez. “It knew, as we did not, what moved amongst its trees. It was frightened, and hid itself.”

“You may have seen it,” said Brenner.

“Now, in retrospect, interpreting shadows, movements amongst trees, what seemed, briefly, to appear, an evanescent silhouette, and such, I think I did,” said Rodriguez. “But, as with the tracks in the village, the marks at the platform, I would not acknowledge that to which the evidence pointed.”

“Why?”

“It did not seem to me possible,” said Rodriguez.

“You know this sort of animal,” said Brenner.

“Yes,” said Rodriguez.

“It is interesting that Pons could manage to train such a creature.”

“Such things cannot be trained,” said Rodriguez.

“Obviously the Pons have trained it.”

“Such things do not train,” said Rodriguez. “They kill their keepers.”

“Perhaps if taken when young?”

“No,” said Rodriguez.

“Something like that must be the case,” said Brenner.

“No,” said Rodriguez.

“Then we have a fascinating example of zoological symbiosis here,” said Brenner.

“No,” said Rodriguez.

“Like the warning bird, nesting in the coat of the Chian buffalo, whose cries warn it of the approach of intruders, like the scavenger eels swimming in and out of the mouth of the Abderan shark, cleaning its teeth.”

“No,” said Rodriguez. “Such relationships involve reciprocities. Each partner derives a benefit. It is clear that the protection of the beast is much to the profit of the Pons, but what possible profit in this accrues to the beast? It does not live with them. They do not shelter it. They do not alert it to the presence of enemies. They do not clean it. They do not groom it. They do not even feed it, nor could they, on their resources, do so. And such things, I assure you, do not live on fruits and porridge. Indeed, in protecting the Pons, it seems the beast is actually acting against its own best interests. For example, the provision of such a service must involve time and effort, which might better be bestowed elsewhere. Too, of course, it excludes a convenient, easily obtained item from its larder, a sacrifice which, I expect, numerous other predators of the forest are less prepared to make.”

“Perhaps it keeps the Pons about, rather as bait, to attract other things to feed on?”

“How so?” asked Rodriguez, interested.

“Like the Assyrian panther with the snow does it herds?”

“Or the Milesian corath with the small flocks of females of our own species?”

“Precisely,” said Brenner.

“No,” said Rodriguez. “That would not explain such things as depositing the body of the animal which killed Archimedes before the gate.”

“To reassure the Pons of their safety?”

“It would be more likely to terrify them into remaining within their walls,” said Rodriguez. “Bait is normally most effective when it goes about its business, quite unaware of its danger. In the case of the Assyrian panther and the Milesian corath, and other such life forms, too, the hunters, with their bait, angling with it, so to speak, are usually rovers, taking the bait into new and different areas, where their stratagems are likely to be unknown.”

“You do not think such a thing, then, is involved in the pact?” said Brenner.

“No,” said Rodriguez.

“What then is the nature of the pact?” asked Brenner.

“That is one of the mysteries,” smiled Rodriguez.

“We had best get back to the hut,” said Brenner.

“Very well,” said Rodriguez, retrieving his torch from the torch rack.

But Brenner stood where he was, looking up at the massive, carved head on the post.

Rodriguez, torch in hand, turned back.

“You said,” said Brenner, “you knew what sort of animal this is.”

“I do,” said Rodriguez.

“You have seen them before?”

“Yes,” said Rodriguez.

“You seemed familiar with its prints,” said Brenner.

“I am,” said Rodriguez.

“Where had you seen them?” asked Brenner.

“In the sands of the arenas of Megara,” said Rodriguez. “When I was a boy, I raked sand there. It was there, too, where I became aware of the marks of its claws. Some of the marks were eighty feet high, on the barriers, as the beast sought to leap up, and clamber over them. Too, I saw their work on various life forms. One blow of the paw of such a thing can break the back of a mastodon of Thule, another can tear out the belly and backbone of a Thracian dragon. I have seen it.”